


History Repeats

by IndigoBloom



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-08-21 04:38:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16569791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IndigoBloom/pseuds/IndigoBloom
Summary: When danger threatens Hogwarts during the Tri-Wizard Tournament, two people are called in to help. But, the problem is, one is not who he seems to be. The other has to get through school as well as protect the students of Hogwarts. But, is she up to the task?





	1. Homecoming...

“All Aboard!” The conductor yells.

I had arrived at 9 ¾, King’s Cross Station not even five minutes ago, and I still don’t see my uncle anywhere. This worries me. He’s not much one to be late, but I have to get onto the train before it leaves. I grab my trolly and start to walk toward the cargo car, when a young man bumps into me. He drops something, and I accidentally step on his foot. “Oh, I’m sorry!” I say, stooping down to help him pick up what he dropped. It was a bag of second-hand books.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” he says, “I was just trying to get to the train,”

We both stand up, and stand there for a second.

The lad is severely ginger, and quite a bit taller than me. He’s well built, and his brown eyes, framed by freckles, has a slight twinkle of someone well versed in mischief. “We had better get to the train,” he says, “Let me help you,”

I nod as he grabs some bags from my trolley. What’s left is my ferret, Cole, in his cage, and a duffle-bag of clothes.

“You can sit with us,” he says, heading for the Gryffindor car.

_ He’s not giving me any time to protest,  _ I think to myself.

He leads me to a compartment that already has four other people in it. “Sorry,” he says, “I had a slight delay. The strap on my bag broke, and then I ran into this girl…literally,”

Another lad, who looks exactly like the one who led me here, laughs, and scootches closer to the door. “I’ll make room,” he says, not taking his eyes off of me.

“You can sit next to the window,” the first guy says to me, and, after putting my bags on a luggage rack, he sits next to his twin, leaving room for me by the window.

I put my duffle-bag next to my other bags on the rack, take out a small leash, put it on Cole, and let him out of his cage. 

He runs up my arm, perches on my shoulder, and nuzzles my ear.

I sit down next to the window, and look at the other people in the compartment.

There is a younger ginger boy sitting diagonally across from me, and a young ginger girl sitting next to him. They must be related to the twins.

Closest to the door, there is a girl with very frizzy, light brown hair, reading a newspaper. She occasionally glances up at me.

But, across from me is someone I actually recognize. Not that I know him personally, but you’ve probably been living under a rock if you’re a wizard and don’t know who this boy is.

“Harry Potter,” I mutter, momentarily glancing up at his scar.

He looks a tad annoyed for a second, which makes this situation a bit awkward.

“Sorry,” I say, “I’ve only ever heard of you. I’ve been out of the country for the past few years. That’s why I haven’t been to Hogwarts for a while. I’ve been doing a correspondence course while studying magical creatures on Mount Cook, the tallest mountain in New Zealand,”

Harry just stares at me for a second, and then nods. “It’s okay,” he says, “People often stare at my scar,”

I nod, pause, and then extend my hand. “I’m Gen,” I say, “Genevieve Artimus Moody. And I am in Gryffindor,”

He shakes my hand, but he hardly has to introduce himself.

“Wait,” the twin I bumped into says, “Are you related to Mad-Eye?”

I chuckle. “Yeah,” I say, “He’s my uncle,”

The twins look at me like they expect me to have a mental break at any point in time.

“I’m not mad,” I say, defensively, “and neither is he. He’s just been through things no man should ever have to go through,”

The twin closest to me extends his hand. “Fred Weasley,” he says, “and this is my twin brother George,”

I shake both of their hands. “Arthur's boys?” I ask.

“Yep,” George says, “And that’s our younger brother, Ron, and our little sister, Ginny,”

Both of the girl and the boy wave at me, still looking nervous.

“And that’s Hermione Granger,” Harry says to me, gesturing to the frizzy-haired girl.

She glances up at me, nods, and goes back to reading the news-paper.

I turn back to the window next to me, waiting for the train to start moving. I rest my chin on my fist, and stare out the window. 

That’s when Cole decided to start asking for food. He does this by sniffing the corner of my mouth. His whiskers tickle me, and snaps me out of my day-dreaming.

“Okay,” I say, “I’ll get you something, just hold up,”

I grab a small bag from my luggage, and I take out a small piece of freeze-dried liver. I hold it out to Cole, and he sniffs it. When he decides that I’m not trying to poison him, he starts to nibble on it. I have it lay flat on my hand, and that’s how I stay until he finishes.

He then looks at me again, and starts making small chuckling noises.

“Want more?” I ask, and I get another piece of liver for him.

He eats that too, and then he climbs down my arm onto the window sill. He sits down, staring out the window as the train starts to move.

I rest my elbow in front of him, and rest my chin in my hand again.

The scenery whips by at impossible speeds, going from London to the countryside in no less than ten seconds. I’m just glad to be in England again.

“So, how long were you in New Zealand?” George asks me, now sitting next to me. Somehow, for some reason, he and Fred switched places, probably to confuse me. It won’t work.

“Since my second year,” I say, “so…about four years,”

He nods. “I think I remember you,” he says, “From our first year. You always sat in the back of class, and you’re really smart. You were like Hermione, just less talkative,”

Hermione makes a strange huff noise, but doesn’t say anything.

“Thank you,” I say, “And I remember you and your brother. You always made the class laugh at very inopportune times, but you never bothered in Snape’s class,”

“That’s ‘cause he would kill us,” Fred says, “We know our boundaries,”

I laugh. “I do suppose,” I say, “Class clowns are smart that way,”

“Do you know who the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor is?” Ron asks, obviously trying to change the subject.

I giggle, and Cole makes a similar noise, which makes both Harry and Ron look at him. “Well, it’s part of the reason I’m here,” I say, “Just do the Math,”

“What’s math?” Ron asks.

I roll my eyes. “Didn’t you ever go to regular school?”

“Like a  _ Muggle _ school?” Ron says, eyes going wide, “No. Our parents taught us how to read and write, but that’s it,”

I sigh and nod. “Well, math has to do with numbers and combining them,”

“Ah,” Ron says, narrowing his eyes, scrunching his eyebrows, and nodding.

“But, you’ll find out about the new professor when we get to Hogwarts,” I say, “But does anyone have any idea what’s going to be going on at Hogwarts this year? I hear it’s something important,”

Everyone, except Hermione, makes unsure noises.

“Okay,” I say, “All of us are in the dark,”

Hermione scoffs. “Not all of us,” she says quietly.

I look at her, confused.

“Just ignore her,” Ron says, “That’s just another thing that we’ll find out when we get there,”

I nod, and turn to the window again. I focus on the tracks, and I let my imagination take control. I think about where my Uncle could be, and I picture a dark night, and a person in a dark cloak in my uncle’s backyard. I see my uncle, and the person stuns him, and takes a lock of his hair. The dark figure seems to put the lock of hair in a bottle, that then proceeds to fizz. Then, my day-dream fades to black, as the figure, who seems to be a young man, drags Uncle Alistar into the house.

I snap out of the day-dream with a start. I blink rapidly, and I glance around the train car.

Ron seems to be nodding off as he leans his head back against the wall.

Hermione is still reading, but she’s reading a book now, instead of the Daily Profit.

Harry is staring out the window, obviously in a daze.

Ginny, George, and Fred, on the other hand, are having a very loud game of Exploding Snap.

All of them are in their school uniforms and cloaks.

George glances over at me, and he almost instantly looks worried. “Are you okay?” he asks, “You look like you just had a nightmare,”

“More of a day-mare, to be sure,” I say, rubbing my forehead. My head has started to pound, like always with the very detailed daydreams I have. “It’s nothing, though,” I say, “Just a very active imagination,”

“Do you want to play with us?” Fred asks.

“I’ve never played,” I say, as the deck in the middle of them explodes, and Ginny starts to laugh. We all scramble to catch the cards that were sent flying into the air by the explosion. Some of them that were slightly singed are fixing themselves magically.

“You’ve never played Exploding Snap?!” Ginny asks, “It’s pretty easy,”

“I’m fine,” I say, “Aren’t we getting close to Hogwarts?”

“Yeah,” George says.

“I’m going to go change into my robes,” I say, grabbing my clothes bag, and walking out of the compartment. I walk to a bathroom, and I change. I stare at myself in the mirror for a minute, adjusting my gold and scarlet tie. I sigh as I notice the bags under my eyes. I have to admit, sleeping hasn’t been to easy lately, since I’m constantly on the move.

There’s a knock at the bathroom door.

“Just a minute,” I say loudly.

“I’m not waiting for the bathroom,” a male voice says from the other side, that I just barely recognize as one of the twins, “I’m waiting for you,”

I open the bathroom door, and step out into the hall, closing the door behind me. I face George, looking up slightly, since he’s a head and a half taller than me.

“Are you okay?” he asks, quietly.

“I’m fine,” I say, “Why are you worried?”

“You look like you need some sleep, for starters,” he says, “And then there was the day-dream thing. Why do you have daydreams like that?”

“I have a very over-active imagination,” I say, “I can’t help it,”

He nods, and I feel the train slowing down.

“We better get back to our compartment,” I say, and we make our way back to our compartment, where everyone is already grabbing their things from the luggage racks. I put the leash back on Cole, and I gather my things, Cole perched on my shoulder.

The train stops, and we unload into driverless carriages. I stare at the castle that we’re slowly approaching. My second home.


	2. Not Alright...

I mount the stairs to the girl’s dormitory, eyelids drooping. I blink twice, and Cole nuzzles my face. 

“It’s okay,” I mutter to him, “We’ll get to bed soon,”. 

He chitters happily. As I close the curtains around my bed, Cole leaps off of my shoulder and onto the mattress. He curls up in the middle of the bed, and almost instantly falls asleep. 

I chuckle, and change into a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. I climb under the covers of the bed, and move Cole onto my chest. I stare up at the ceiling, and it seems so very far above me. The entire room has gone almost pitch black. 

I try to fight the feeling of utter terror creeping up on me, but I don’t last long. I feel like I’m suffocating, being enveloped by layers upon layers of black velvet. I start to breath heavily, and I scan the blackness around me, convinced that I heard someone walking around in the dormitory. After a bit, I try to go to sleep, but I suddenly feel like someone, with hands as cold as death, is trying to strangle me. I sit up extremely fast, almost launching Cole across the bed.

He turns toward me, and chitters at me, annoyed.

“Sorry…” I pant, “I just…I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep in here,”

He cocks his head to the side as I part the curtains around my bed, and grab my wand from the bed stand. 

I stand up and grab a hooded sweatshirt. It’s grey with black and red writing, the colors of my favorite quidditch team, the Ballycastle Bats. I pick up Cole, and put him in the front pouch pockets. I then grab a pillow and blanket from my bed, and I silently walk down the steps to the common room, where a fire is still burning in the fireplace, inviting me to come closer. I sigh. “This is better,” I mutter, putting my pillow and blanket on a couch, “It’s just like home. Well, like my home in New Zealand,”. I sit down on the couch, and Cole crawls out of my pocket. Holding my wand tight in my right hand, I stare into the fire. My eyes slowly droop, and I fall to sleep.

Suddenly, a slight scuffling noise snaps me out of my dreamless sleep.

I hop up, wand poised, eyes flicking around the common room.

There’s a slight yelp from whoever is there with me. I must have surprised them.

“Didn’t see you there, Miss,” a quiet, squeaky voice says from behind an armchair, “Winky can leave, is Miss wants her to,”

I sigh.  _ Only a house elf _ , I think to myself. “It’s okay,” I say, sitting back down on the couch, “You just surprised me, is all,”

The small elf comes out from behind the chair. Her large, watery brown eyes look to be on the verge of tears, and her large, bat-like ears droop down, almost to her shoulders. She’s wearing an old dishcloth like a dress, and no socks or shoes.

“You said your name was Winky?” I ask, “You were the Crouch Family house elf, weren’t you?”

She looks at me for a second, her eyes welling up with tears. “Yes, Miss,” she mutters, “Winky did work for the Crouch Family, and she was happy there,”. Large tears slowly roll down her face and plop onto the carpet. She turns to the fire, and puts an extra log into the hearth. She then picks up a large feather duster, and shuffles off. “Goodnight, Miss,” Winky says.

I nod, and lay back down on the couch. I close my eyes, and drift off to sleep. I’m woken by someone tapping me on my shoulder.

“What are you doing down here?” George asks me, “Why aren’t you sleeping in the dormitory?”

“I felt claustrophobic with the curtains closed,” I say, sitting up, rubbing my eyes with the back of my hand, “Couldn’t sleep that way,”

“Then  _ open _ the curtains,” George says.

“I’ll feel like someone is going to creep up on me and kill me in my sleep,” I say, “I feel safer down here by the fire. I’d also be something of the House’s ‘first defence’, if you’d like to think of it that way,”

George laughs. “Wow,” he says, “The more I’m around you, the more I see similarities between you and your Uncle,”

“Well,” I say, “he raised me, so…”

George just laughs as more students trickle into the common room.

“I’m going to go get changed,” I say, grabbing my pillow and blanket.

Cole is perched on my shoulder, and other girls glance at him as I head up the stairs.

“You’re going to have to stay here,” I say to him, putting him in his cage, “And you’re only going to be in the cage because of Crookshanks. It’s not that I don’t trust them, but they’re a cat, and you’re a ferret. I don’t know how that would work. But, we’ll go on a stroll through the grounds this afternoon,”

He chitters a little bit, and the settles into his towel in his cage.

I change into my uniform, and grab my bag of books, and make my way to the Common room, where Fred and George are waiting for me.

“So, you have all sixth year classes,” George says, “except Defence Against the Dark Arts?”

“That seems to be the long and the short of it,” I say, “I have that with fourth-years,”

George just nods. “I bet the topics you cover won’t be much different, though,” he says.

I shrug. “You never know with Uncle Alastar,”

Both of them laugh, and we make our way down to the Great Hall to have breakfast.

Most of my day is uneventful, until I arrive at Defence Against the Dark Arts.

“Gen!” my Uncle barks at me.

“Yes U-…I mean,  _ Professor _ ?” I say, smirking slightly.

“I want you front and center!” he says, pointing to a desk in the front row.

I sigh. “Yes, Sir,” I mutter under my breath.

“No muttering under your breath!” he says, “Have I not taught you anything, girl?!”

I sigh again, and sit in my seat. The other students file in, and on one side of me sits Harry, and Neville Longbottom sits behind me.

After both the fourth year Gryffindors and Slytherins take their seats, the room goes silent for a second. Then, a loud, drawling voice asks from the back of the class, “What’s she doing here? Isn’t she a sixth year, or did she get held back? Too much time with magical creatures in New Zealand?”. Then there’s a chorus of laughter.

“For your information, Mr. Malfoy,” I say, turning around to face Draco, “I  _ have _ to take one extra year of Defence Against the Dark Arts to help with my Auror training, that I’ve already started days before I left for Hogwarts. So, excuse me for being older than you, but I’ve already got a job. What have you accomplished? Snape’s Pet?”

There’s a chorus of giggles from the Gryffindors as Draco’s face goes from triumph, to amazement, to annoyance, to embarrassment.

“That’s enough of that!” Uncle says, “I won’t be having any misbehavior in this class, you hear?”

Everyone goes silent, and turns to him.

“Now,” he says, “I’ve gotten special permission from the Ministry to start with this lesson today, so pay close attention. There will be no need for wands or notes today, just. Pay. Attention,”

I fold my hands in front of me, and look at him.

He looks around the room, his magical eye swiveling around in his head.

_ That cannot be comfortable, _ I think to myself,  _ How can he stand it? _

“The three Unforgivable Curses,” he says, walking up to a table with three jars on it. In each of them is a large, hairy, wolf spider. “I’m only teaching you about them to give you defence, so you know what you’re up against. Can anyone name one of the three Curses?”

No hands go up, but I hear Nevill mutter something behind me.

“What was that, Longbottom?” my Uncle says, walking towards us slowly.

“Th-the Cruciatus curse,” he mutters, louder.

“The Cruciatus curse,” my Uncle says, “Correct. It puts the victim in immeasurable amounts of pain, and is often used as a torture,”. He advances toward one of the jars, and grabs the spider from it. He points his wand toward the spider, and utters one word. “ _ Crucio! _ ” he says, and the spider starts to writhe in pain, making a very faint, high pitched, screaming noise.

I clench my jaw, and stare past my Uncle as he continues.

“Professor, Stop!” someone pleads, “Please, can’t you see it’ bothering him!”

I recognize the voice as Hermione’s, and I turn to see her standing, her hand gesturing to behind me. I turn to see Nevill staring at the front of his desk, his face pale, fists squeezed so tight his knuckles have turned white. His bottom jaw is slightly trembling.

I place one of my hands on his shoulder. “Hey,” I whisper to him, “You’re okay,”

He looks at me, amazed for a second, and then nods. He still looks extremely pale.

I turn back to my Uncle, and I watch him put the spider back into the jar. Then I see him do the weirdest thing. His tongue flicks out of his mouth, really quickly, like a snake. 

_ He’s never done that before,  _ I think to myself.

He glances around quickly, and takes out his hip-flask. He takes a drink, and grimaces, but then he stops being so jumpy.

“Can anyone else name an Unforgivable curse?” he turns to Ron, “You’re a Weasley aren’t you?”

Ron goes pale, and nods.

“You’re father works for the Ministry, doesn’t he?” my Uncle says, quietly, “Do you know of any other Curses?”

Ron goes slightly red, and swallows. “The…erm The Imperius curse…” he says, nervously.

“Correct,” Uncle says, “The Imperius Curse puts the victim under your control,”

He opens another jar, but doesn’t take out the spider. He points his wand at the spider, and says, “ _ Imperio! _ ”. The spider goes still, almost stiff, and my Uncle directs it to crawl out of the jar. He makes it walk around, with some hushed awes from the students. He then makes it hop from his desk onto a sleeping Slytherin, who starts to freak out.

The class erupts into laughter, the loudest being Malfoy. I’m completely stony faced, and a slight pulsing starting behind my right eye.

Uncle makes it jump onto Malfoy’s head, making the class laugh louder. 

Malfoy starts to freak out, trying to get the spider off of his head.

“You think that’s funny, huh?” Uncle calls, “What should I make her do next?”. He makes the spider fly toward the window. “Should I make her jump out the window?” He directs the spider, “Drown herself?”

The class goes silent. Everyone seems terrified.

I’m staring at the spider, biting my bottom lip, gripping my right wrist with my left hand, nails digging into my skin.

“This spell is no laughing matter,” Uncle says, “Many bad wizards have claimed they’ve been under the Imperius curse, that there were doing You-Know-Who’s bidding against their will. Others have lost their lives, presumably suicide, but they may have been under the influence of the Imperius curse,”

There’s a palpable silence as I try to stop myself from crying. I’m shaking like mad, and I’m just staring at the floor in front of my desk. I’m still biting my bottom lip so hard that I start to taste blood.

“The last Curse, we all know well,” my Uncle says, walking up to the last jar. He opens the lid, and points his wand into the jar. “ _ Avada Kedavra!”  _ he says, and a green light flashes from the end of his wand. He turns back to us. “The Killing Curse,” he says, “There is only one wizard who has ever survived it, and he’s sitting in this room,”. Both of my Uncle’s eyes look at Harry, who has gone deathly pale.

The bell for the end of class rings, and the entire class rushes to stand up and get to their next class.

“Gen, Longbottom!” my Uncle says, “Stay after for a minute,”

I sit back down, and Nevill stops mid-step, halfway to the door.

The door closes behind the last person, and both Nevill and I stare at my Uncle.

“Longbottom,” he says, “would you please join me in my office?”

Nevill goes pale, and nods.

They both walk into the back room of the classroom, leaving me alone.

I place my hands on my face, and start crying, silently. I wouldn’t let myself cry in front of Harry, or Draco, or anyone for that matter, but…I just couldn’t help it anymore. I’m shaking, and the throbbing behind my eye has gotten worse, and is accompanied by the memory of a woman’s manic laughter. The same laughter that haunts my worst nightmares.

The door in the back of the room opens again, and Nevill walks back through, looking less pale, and carrying a few more books than before. He looks at me, and a slight, nervous smile flashes across his face, but he then hurries out of the room.

“Gen,” my Uncle says, standing in front of me, “How are you settling in?”

“Fine,” I lie, “just fine,”

“I can tell when you lie, you know,” he says, “What’s wrong?”

“Well,” I say, “my claustrophobia prevents me from sleeping in an actual bed,”

He nods slightly. “Where  _ do _ you sleep, then?” he asks.

“The couch in the Common Room,” I say.

He nods again. We sit in silence for a minute or two, when he does the tongue thing again. 

I didn’t mean to say it, but it was a thought that had crossed my mind. And, for some reason, I didn’t realize that I had said it out loud until I saw his reaction.

“Who are you, and what have you done with my Uncle?” I said.

His face went surprisingly placid, almost scared. That’s all the conformation that I needed. “What makes you ask that?” he growls.

“First of all, the thing you do with your tongue,” I say, “second, you would have never shown a class of  _ fourth years _ the Three Unforgivable Curses on the first day of school. And, third, even if you had decided to show the Curses to a group of older students, you would have never performed the Imperius curse in front of me,”

His face flashes a look of confusion.

“Ah,” I say, “so I’m correct. You don’t know. Well,  _ Professor _ , if we’re done here, could you write a note for Professor Flitwick, telling him why I’m late?”

He just blinks, staring at me blankly, and picks up a quill and paper. He scrawls something, and hands the paper to me.

I stand up, and start to the door. Halfway there, I turn around. “Two more things,” I say, “he would have laughed when I asked who you are. And…” I pause.

“And?” he asks.

“He calls me ‘lamb’ when he’s trying to comfort me,” I say, “so, you may be my Professor, you are _ not  _ my Uncle. I  _ will _ find out what you did to him, if I have to tear this entire castle inside out,”

He just stares at me.

I walk out of the classroom, and down the hall to Flitwick’s class. The class is working on non-verbal spells, which I’ve already mastered. But, practice is always good.

“I’m sorry I’m late, Professor,” I mutter to him as I hand him the note, “My Uncle just wanted to talk to me,”

“Alright,” he says, but he hold up his hand, “The students have been chattering about what happened in the class. Are you alright?”

I fake a smile, and nod. “I’m coping,” I say, quietly, “I’ll be alright,”

He nods. “We’re working in partners, but you can join in to make a group of three,”

I nod, and find Fred and George in the back corner of a room.

“You good?” George asks me.

“Fine,” I say, “but…ah, never mind,”

Fred and George just look at eachother, and then shrug.

We practice the spells, and nothing else eventful happens throughout the rest of the day.


	3. Best Mates…

It’s near lunch, and George, Fred, Lee, and I are standing around in the corner of a courtyard. George and Fred are explaining to me about the things in what they call “Skiving Snackboxes”, while I’m still trying to talk them out of it.

“It’s ridiculous,” I say, “I mean, are you sure that they  _ work _ ?”

“That’s what we’re working on,” Fred admits, “but, the concept is there. We also need to send a letter to Bagman,”

“Yeah,” George says, “he still-…hold on. What-Oh! Oh! Look!”. Something had caught his attention behind me, and I can also hear gasps and laughter. George is pointing behind me, a smile slowly creeping onto his face.

I turn around to see my uncle standing at the top of a short set of stairs, levitating a ferret in mid-air. For a terrifying moment, I’m sure that Cole had somehow gotten out of his cage and had found his way down here to me, but then I realize something: the ferret he’s levitating is  _ white _ . “What happened?” I ask.

“From what I saw,” George says, “Draco tried to curse Harry behind his back, and then your Uncle stopped him by turning him into a ferret,”

Suddenly, Professor McGonagall storms into the courtyard. “PROFESSOR MOODY!” she yells, “What…what are you  _ doing _ ?”

“Teaching!” he yells back, still levitating the ferret.

“Is that a…is that a  _ student _ ?” she asks, face going pale.

“Technically, it’s a ferret,” he says back, dropping the ferret on the ground.

I wince, but I know that ferrets can survive that fall.

McGonagall rushes down the stairs of the courtyard. “No!” she exclaims, and she flicks her wand at the ferret. With a sound that resembles the crack of a whip, the ferret turns back into a cowering and dirty Draco Malfoy.

He stands up, obviously shaken, and he goes back to his group of cronies.

“Professor Moody,” McGonagall says, “we  _ never _ use Transfiguration on students, even if it’s for punishment!”

My Uncle just sneers at her, and stalks away.

“He kind of deserved it, though,” George mutters to me, “the git,”

I laugh quietly.

\---

I’m standing by the door of the Great Hall, looking at the group of students surrounding the Goblet of Fire. Just yesterday, Dumbledore had announced that the Triwizard Tournament will be held at Hogwarts, and the halls are abuzz with the wonderings of who the Goblet will choose. I’ve already seen Cedric Diggory put his name in the Goblet.

There’s a loud commotion as George and Fred, followed by Lee Jordan, thunder down the stairs, each of the twins holding a small bottle in their hand. George sees me, and smiles a very goofy smile. Fred sees me as well and raises his small bottle, as if to say, “cheers!”.

I roll my eyes, but smile just the same. It’s weird that, no matter what, those two can always make me smile.

“We’ve perfected it!” George yells.

“This potion will age us forward one year!” Fred calls.

They go on with an obviously rehearsed speech, and then, after much ado, they each down their vials of the potion. Afterward, they don’t look too much different. The both walk through the Age Line, and they attempt to place their names in the Goblet, but it blasts both of them backwards.

My heart jumps into my throat.

They sit up from where they were pushed two, and they both, somehow, have extremely long beards, almost down to their waists.

They look at eachother, and start to roar with laughter. Other students start to join in with laughing, and I can’t help but laugh as well.

A Professor comes by, and, noticing what they’ve done, tells them to go to Madame Pomfrey.

\---

All of the students, from Hogwarts, Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, are gathered in the Great Hall, all facing the Goblet of Fire expectantly. I’m sitting next to Harry and Neville

Dumbledore starts by explaining what the Champions are to do once they’re chosen, and then, the fire in the Goblet fades from blue to a brilliant violet color, and a scrap of paper flies out of it. Dumbledore catches it mid-air, and holds it in front of him, reading the name.

“The Champion for Durmstrang,” he announces, “is…Viktor Krum!”

Raucous applause erupts from the students of Durmstrang, while the other students applaud politely. Krum walks up to Dumbledore, shakes his hand, and then goes into a back room.

Another paper flies out of the Goblet.

“The Champion from Hogwarts is…Cedric Diggory!”

The Hogwarts students, especially the Hufflepuffs, roar in excitement. Cedric walks up to Dumbledore, shakes his hand, and walks into the same room Krum when into.

Another paper is airborne.

“The Champion for Beauxbatons is…Fleur Delacour!”

There is  _ only _ polite applause, maybe a tad louder from the French students. Fleur saunters up to Dumbledore, quickly shakes his hand, and heads into the back room.

The Goblet turns back to its original color.

Dumbledore smiles slightly, and is about to talk again, when, suddenly, the Goblet of Fire turns bright red, and angrily spits out another, mildly scorched, paper.

Dumbledore snatches it out of the air, and reads it, bewildered. But as he reads it, I can see a dark cloud roll across his face.

“Harry Potter,” he say, loudly.

The room is silent.

I turn to Harry, who has turned extremely pale.

“Harry Potter,” Dumbledore says louder.

I push Harry forward, trying to get him to stand up.

He stands up, and starts forward, awestruck. He just stands in front of Dumbledore for a second, who gestures to the back door.

After a bit of a speech, telling about the time and place of the first task, and how we are expected to behave, Dumbledore dismisses all of us.

I’m laying on the couch in the Common Room, which is pretty much empty, with my pillow and blanket, reading a book, when Harry walks into the room, looking distraught.

“So,” I say, surprising him, “are they still making you compete?”

“Yeah,” he says, “What…What are you doing down here? Isn’t your bed in the Girls Dormitory?”

“Well,” I say, “the bed that I had for the past few years, the one by the window, had been taken by another student, so, I can’t comfortably sleep up there. I find it more to my liking down here,”

He just nods, and heads towards the Boy’s Dormitory stairs.

“Goodnight, Harry,” I say.

\---

A few weeks later I’m walking with George, Fred, and Lee down to the arena that had be built over night, for the first task.

“What do you think it’s going to be?” George asks.

“No clue,” Lee says, “Gen?”

“Haven’t the Foggiest,” I say, “Why would you expect me to know?”

“Your Uncle works for the Ministry,” he says, “and the school, I thought you may know something,”

“I’m just as clueless as you,” I say.

We find seats near the top of the stadium, and we wait for the task to begin.

The wind whips by, cutting straight through my Ballycastle sweatshirt, making me shiver.

George glances at me, and scootches closer to me. He takes off his scarf, that’s obviously home-made but still extremely comfortable looking, and wraps it around my neck. “That should help,” he mutters, “and, we can move down to a lower level, if you’re still cold,”

“I’m fine,” I say, “but…thanks for the scarf,”

He smiles, and glances at Fred.

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Fred shoot George a very sour look.

The task starts as a gate opens, and a blue-grey dragon stomps into the middle of the arena, and sets upon guarding a clutch of eggs, the middle one of which is golden.

And so the first task begins, with each contestant having to get the golden egg. 

Cedric is first, and he transfigures a boulder into a labrador, which distracts the dragon long enough for him to grab the egg.

Fleur is next, who tries to charm her dragon, a Welsh Green, into a trance. It works, but the dragon snores, setting her robes on fire.

Next is Krum, who used the Conjunctivitis Curse on his small Chinese Fireball, only to have the dragon thrash around in rage and smashes all of the other eggs.

Last, is Harry, who I can only recognize due to his scarlet and gold robes, and he’s facing a Hungarian Horntail.

I cheer with Fred, George, and Lee until my throat is hoarse.

The wind whips by again, bringing with it a few small snowflakes.

I shiver, pull my hood up, and start to rub my arms to warm up.

Both Fred and George scooch closer to me, Fred on my left, and George to my right. Lee is sitting right in front of me, and doesn’t notice a thing that is happening back here. Fred puts and arm around my shoulders as George puts an arm around my waist. They both lean in on me, sharing some warmth.

I smile, and feel my cheeks heating up. I want to lean my head on one of them, but I don’t want to make the other one jealous.

“Awe,” Fred says, “we’re making her blush,”

“Well,” George says, “at least we’re keeping her warm,”

We all laugh, and I see Harry, down in the arena, raise his wand into the air, and then there’s no movement for a minute. The arena goes silent.

“What is he doing?” I whisper to the twins.

“No clue,” they say in tandem.

Then, something zips from the castle, and stops right next to Harry, hovering above the ground. He mounts it, and takes off, flying above the dragon’s head.

The crowd erupts into cheers, most people standing up, but I’m too cold to, so me and the twins stay seated, but we’re cheering as loud as we can.

Harry coaxes the dragon to rear its head up, but it’s not off of the ground yet.

“Come on, Harry!” I yell.

Harry gets the dragon to go up on its hind legs, and as quick as a bolt of lightning, he swoops down underneath the dragon, and grabs the golden egg from the nest.

The noise of victory is deafening. The Victory party in the Common room goes on for what seems like forever, and I still don’t want to sleep up in my room. I just wait downstairs until the other students have gone to bed.

People had convinced Harry to open the golden egg, and a loud, piercing, shrieking noise, forcing Harry to almost instantly shut the egg. The atmosphere in the common room instantly feels very tense, and then Prefects usher people up into the Dormitories.

Hermione even tries to get me to go up into the dormitory, but I down right deny her.

“I can’t,” I say, “I can’t sleep up there. I’m better down here,”

She just stares at me for a minute, and then shakes her head, beaten. “I will never understand  _ anyone _ with the last name ‘Moody’…” I hear her mutter.

I chuckle. I lay back on the couch, and stare up at the dimly lit ceiling. I start to nod off, kind of. I more of go into a daze. 

I see my Uncle…well, my faux Uncle, pacing around his office. He stops in front of a trunk in the room, and unlocks it. I can see into the trunk, and I see that it’s much larger on the inside than it is on the inside, and I can see a crumpled figure sitting on the bottom of the trunk. I just barely recognize it as my Uncle, my real Uncle. My faux Uncle drops what seems to be a loaf of bread, and a canteen into the trunk, and then closes the lid.

I gasp and sit up straight, panting. My head is pounding, and I’m sweating.

“Is Miss alright?” I can hear Winky’s squeaky voice from over near the fireplace.

I glance over at her, and she had pause in the middle of putting a log into the hearth. Many times we had conversations as she worked. It’s nice to have someone like her to talk to.

“Uh…a nightmare…” I say, “I’m fine, though,”

“Alright, Miss,” Winky says.

I nod, and leave the conversation there. She doesn’t seem to want to talk much tonight.

I lean back on the couch again, and close my eyes. I relax, and drift off to sleep. Then, I remember that McGonagall had told us in Transfiguration that, on Christmas Day, there will be a dance, called the Yule Ball.  _ That’s why the twins were acting so sweet to me! _ I think to myself _ They’re competing against each other to see who I’ll go to the Ball with. But…I don’t know who to choose…I’ll talk to them tomorrow… _


End file.
